


Last Remaining Light

by incognitajones



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-28 06:03:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/pseuds/incognitajones
Summary: Amilyn had always been luminous. Now she was dazzling, a blinding streak of glory.





	Last Remaining Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlassesOfJustice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassesOfJustice/gifts).



> I combined your prompts for mourning fic and/or glimpses of Leia and Amilyn connecting over the years; I've always been moved by the fact that their relationship was one of such long standing. Hope you enjoy this!

The stars shattered into splinters of light and the _Supremacy_ cracked open as though a lightsaber had sliced it in two. 

Leia stretched her mind to its limit, straining to touch Amilyn’s. She felt no hesitation, no wavering or fear, just a fierce triumph that suddenly vanished. The singing, sustained note that was her presence in the Force stopped: cut off instantly, with no echoes. But all around her the few remaining lives that Leia could still hear surged up in a great harmony, swelling louder as they reacted to Amilyn’s sacrifice with grief and awe and pride. 

Had Amilyn thought about the possibility of survival? Probably not. An unprecedented gamble wasn’t one with high odds of success—how would you calculate them? Amilyn likely hadn’t even tried: she’d known she was the only one who could do it, so obviously it was up to her. That would have been the only thing that mattered. She’d never feared death. 

The track of the _Raddus_ still glittered, the burning wreckage of Amilyn’s sacrificial hyperspace leap shining like a glorious bridge to the afterlife. The sight stirred fragments of memory that spun and drifted through Leia’s head, from the first time she’d met Amilyn to the last few hours they’d had alone.

*

Amilyn was ethereally beautiful, her gown of sheer midnight blue so dark it seemed black until you looked closer, spangled with starry gems in half-familiar patterns. Leia held out a hand, smiled at her and asked, “Which astrological system?” 

Amilyn ignored her outstretched hand and hugged her. “The Chandrilan zodiac, of course. For a Senate gala I felt it was the only appropriate choice.” She tipped her head to the side and studied Leia with her familiar, unnerving focus. “You’d belong to Tossenl under that scheme, I'm sure.” 

Leia shrugged. “I don’t know my exact birthdate. My parents and I always celebrated my nameday on the day they adopted me.”

“Well, it matches your true self no matter when you were born,” Amilyn declared with confidence. “It’s all metaphorical, anyway.”

Tonight her hair was a pale lavender, like the full moon blooming in the sky outside, and small sparkling pins restrained it in a net of light. Leia had always loved the unnaturally bright hues of Amilyn’s hair, how she refused to submit completely to the neutral, minimalist aesthetic of Gatalentan culture. A wave of nostalgia swept over her, and she couldn’t resist reaching up to touch one of the pins with a fingertip. “Do you remember our first formal Senate gala? You wore your hair in the same style. It’s just as lovely now.”

Amilyn smiled, but her response was uncharacteristically solemn. “Many things have changed since then… of course, unfortunately, all too many remain the same.” She swept the politicians packing the ornate reception room with a cool glance. 

Leia laughed unwillingly. “Well, thank the Force, there’s no Palpatine.” She crossed her fingers in the superstitious Alderaani gesture she’d never been able to unlearn. “And I’ve become Mon Mothma. But yes, there are some uncomfortable similarities between the Senate now and then.”

“How long until you decide to rebel again?” Amilyn looked at her searchingly, and despite her friend’s love of speaking in metaphors, Leia didn’t think she was talking about just retiring and giving up politics for another life.

“I’m not ready to give up on the New Republic,” Leia said firmly, hoping if she said it often enough she could convince herself. She desperately wanted to rub the point between her brows where she could feel a tension headache building. “It may be cracked in places, but it’s not fractured beyond repair.” Yet.

“We hear things on Gatalenta, Leia. Rumours from Jakku, from even farther into the Unknown Regions—something is lurking, and I’m concerned.”

Amilyn was not one to be frightened by shadows. Monsters with fangs were likely to be greeted by her with an inquiry into their dental work. If she was worried about what might be happening in the obscure reaches of the galaxy, Leia knew her own uneasiness was justified. 

But for now Leia had to circulate among the other Senators and their guests. Talking to an old friend was one thing, but she couldn’t neglect the Centrist politicians all evening. That would only make her job even more difficult. She reached out and clasped Amilyn’s hands tightly. “Come to my chambers after the reception. I have some sweet Polanis we can share and you can tell me more. In private.”

Amilyn’s lopsided smile was as bright and delightful as forty years ago. “I look forward to it.” 

*

Leia sat on her bed with a sigh. She couldn’t hold back the exhaustion of a day spent in command any longer—wearing the right expression, trying to make the right decision, hoping it wouldn't become one of the ones that burned at her from the inside out. The relief of being with someone she didn’t have to appear the omniscient General Organa in front of was immense.

Amilyn hiked up her trailing skirt and shuffled on to the bed, kneeling behind Leia. Her long, deft fingers knew exactly where to search out the pins and clasps holding up Leia’s heavy crown of hair. “You should let me dye it,” she said around the pins in her mouth, another round in their long-running argument she’d never win. “A few fiery orange streaks in that dark hair… it would complement the starbird so well. And liven up those drab utilitarian ensembles you insist on.”

“You just want me to hide the gray,” Leia laughed softly. She bowed her head, feeling the weight of her own hair slide down her neck. Amilyn’s fingers continued sifting through the braids, unweaving them and drawing out all the tension in her scalp the way she always managed to do somehow.

“Never, I like the effect. It’s like a lace veil, softening the darkness of your hair. Lovely.”

Watching her in the mirror, Leia said dryly, “It just means I'm old, Amilyn. As are you.”

“No.” Amilyn shook her head, pink curls bobbing like waves. “We’re older, of course. But age is relative. If we were Wookiies, we’d be barely out of childhood.”

Amilyn kissed the top of Leia’s head, where she’d carefully parted the hair in the centre. Now that all the braids were hanging free, she began running her fingers through, separating them with care until the crimped strands were loose enough to brush. 

Leia thought of all those she loved who'd done this for her: gone now, all of them, lost or left. Amilyn was the only one still with her. Leia reached up to take her hand and held it to her cheek. “Well, we’re not Wookiies. And relatively speaking, I’m older than most people I know. Older than almost anyone else in the Resistance. Older by far than any of my parents lived to be.”

Amilyn pulled her hand away gently, gathered the thick rope of Leia’s hair in one hand and drew the brush through it, starting from the ends. “And what’s so terrible about that? You’ve had a chance to experience more than any of them.”

“I’ll grant you that.” Leia laughed as memories bubbled up to the surface and for a moment she was sixteen again, befuddled by Amilyn’s corkscrew way of thinking. Amilyn set down the brush, and her fingers pressed into the corded muscle of Leia's neck. She sighed. “I suppose aging wouldn’t bother me if I didn’t have the feeling that time was running out.” 

The strong fingers hesitated and then swept down to press on the line of her shoulders. “What kind of feeling?”

Leia waved one hand dismissively. “Not _that_ kind of feeling. It's not a premonition.” She hoped. “But the odds are against me living to see the end of this, however it ends.”

“The odds are against any of us living to see the end of anything.” Amilyn hummed as she rubbed circles into Leia’s tight muscles. 

Fondness rather than true annoyance made Leia roll her eyes. “Yes, I know, Madam Philosopher. But now… I don’t even have a legacy to pass on.” Her throat closed as she tried not to think about it. “I’ve led my people, half of whom are damn _children_ , speaking of age, into a quagmire and all I have to offer them is platitudes about hope and endurance.” 

Amilyn, infuriatingly, laughed. “Think of how angry they’d be to hear you. As I recall, you hated being called a child at sixteen. And you insisted that your parents ought to trust you with more responsibility, not less. You have to accept that your people will go on without you whenever it’s necessary. That’s the nature of time and non-eternal life.” She kissed the top of Leia’s head again, and Leia tilted her head back to catch a kiss on her lips as well. 

“I wouldn’t want to live forever anyway, would you?” Amilyn smiled down at Leia, and the fine lines around her pale blue eyes gathered into creases that spoke of all the years they’d seen. “But this is a rather abstract discussion. Maybe you need something more physical to jar you out of these sulks.”

“What did you have in mind? A little skyfaring?” Leia inquired. “I don’t think my old bones will bend that way any longer.” 

For someone so complicated, Amilyn had always had a ridiculously straightforward approach to seduction. Her hands slid lower, down from Leia’s shoulders to her breasts through the thin lashaa silk of her robe. Leia’s nipples tightened under the cool fabric and the teasing lightness of Amilyn’s touch. When she drew away slowly, lingeringly, a small whine of impatience escaped Leia.

“Let me kiss you and perhaps something will come to mind,” Amilyn whispered. 

Leia twisted in her arms and pulled the taller woman down to her height. She’d learned her lesson long ago and wasn’t about to get a crick in her neck from kissing. 

So much had changed, so much was lost, but Amilyn was still hers: her confusing, unpredictable, brilliant friend. Leia might never understand Amilyn, and she was fairly certain Amilyn would say the same of her, but she didn’t have to in order to love her. She kissed those thin, expressive lips and sighed at the feel of the clever fingers slipping under her robe, finding all of the places Leia needed to be touched. “Oh, Amilyn, thank the Force you’re still you,” she mumbled into Amilyn’s kiss.

Her laughter rang out in a clear peal. “Who else would I be?”

*

Amilyn had always been luminous. Now she was dazzling, a blinding streak of glory tearing apart the dark bulk of the dreadnought. 

When Leia considered it, this was the most fitting way for Amilyn to go. Saving others was the essential element, but doing it in such a flashy, unconventional, and frankly genius “fuck you” way? That was Amilyn all over. Only someone who could see around corners and never stopped to worry about what was possible or impossible could have conceived such an idea and carried it out. 

Leia had been robbed of the time to remember and to memorialize nearly everyone taken from her. She couldn’t now, and might not be able to yet for days or weeks—but soon, she vowed, as soon as she could stop to take a breath, she’d let herself mourn Amilyn as her friend deserved. 

Maybe she’d dye her hair in remembrance. She let herself picture Amilyn’s reaction to finally seeing Leia with bright streaks in her braids, and smiled with a bitter edge of salt. 

Later she’d mourn. For now she had to accept Amilyn’s sacrifice and ensure that it wasn’t wasted. Everyone on this transport owed their life to her; they’d fight at least one more day in her honour. She swore it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to brynnmclean for their thoughtful beta comments.


End file.
